Disclaimer: I do not own any of the original Once Upon A Time characters, I am only using them for my story. Lets be honest, Regina makes it better... Credit for the photo: author is unknown.
Welcome to my life, but sadly I must say, you do not want to be here, and yet here you are. I call my story the Eight of Cups, just wait and listen, you will find out why.
"Mirror Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?" Pausing to hear something makes me chuckle because I wanted to hear, "you are." My husband gave me this mirror for my birthday. I turned thirty-four on May twenty-fourth. I know I could get him to say it for me.
Its now the end of July and fall quarter will start soon. Every year since I started teaching, I fear standing up in front of the classroom. Teaching Anthropology basic and advanced courses, Ancient Medicine, which is just a history class for medical teachings, beliefs, and tool explanations, I have time for my two favourite classes, Creative Writing and Occult Theory.
Creative writing may not have anything to an Anthropology degree, but I also have a major in English and History, as well as a minor in Psychology. All of these degrees gave me the ability to have these opportunities here at Kerrighan College in Ellsworth, Maine. I knew the head master in College or rather head mistress. I can feel a smirk form on my face.
She has always been there for me, even though I don't consider us close friends. I can trust Lisa Cabot. She is a tall slider woman who stands four inches taller than my five-foot-five. She exudes confidence like no one I have ever seen. Short black hair that just touches her shoulders, green, medium size frames that draw attention to her dark eyes, and bold, conservative dress is her signature. She has Native American heritage and it shows. She made me head of the Arts and Humanities department last April, but so far, I have become a student relations advisor to the college. This is truly how I feel. It has taken time away from teaching.
Even though I should be making lesson plans for my classes, I find myself standing at my office window craving adventure. My computer screen sits on a web page of a reality company. I have requested a showing of two houses that my husband would never approve of. One is down south and the other lay right outside of the main land's reach.
Hearing footsteps close on the wooden staircase, I gently close the computer and take a deep breath in. He knocks, "Regina, it's nearing two AM. Will you be coming to bed?" Johnathan asks with actual concern. "You did not come to bed last night either."
I turn to see his face. It shows his crows feet clearly with hints of dark circles underneath his eyes. My heart hurts for him, but I cannot tell him so. "I will come to bed soon dear." I dart my eyes away to avoid emotion. He grunts with frustration, and closes the door behind him. He is hurt that I do not acknowledge his shortcomings. Maybe that is not the right word, more our difficulties as a couple. I have a hard time showing him my emotions anymore. After trying all these years to have a baby, I feel numb to him. I may not have ever understood how to love, but I know that is what I have with him. About a year before we got married, he had an affair, be it early on in the relationship, he lied to me about where he was going. I forgave him for this but it brought a child into the relationship. He had went to see another one of the professors at the college for drinks and she ended up pregnant.
A long custody battle, because Alison was born with drugs in her system, which ended in Johnathan and I gaining full custody. I understand the need to want the feelings drugs gives, but it has caused Alison to have social and learning disabilities that have not been resolved yet. It's not okay to use them while pregnant or this may be the result. I had resented Alison for many years because I cannot have one of my own, but I love her just as a step mother. The truth is, I never understood how to love a parent. My father left us long ago and my mother took me on with little raising. She did things to me a parent should never do. I will never bring a hand to Alison. Remembering what it was like going to school, trying to hide the physical and emotional pain she caused me, taught me how to fake emotions. It's sad that I still do this when everything is going good in my life. Never learning how to love, makes it...
She runs to me when she cries and I hold her. I kiss her wounds to make them feel better, and save her when daddy get upset or when we fight. We do try hard to keep our lives structured around taking care of her and keep her safe, even if it means to give her anything she wants. It keeps her from acting out, or feeling undeserving.
Sometimes we wear matching clothes like she sees the other children doing at the co-op downtown; its mortifying but it makes her happy. She still likes things that children her age should be too old for, still wanting to carry a stuffed animal everywhere she goes. She had me buy her a smaller bag just like mine to keep her from crying in the store. If we don't do what others do or what makes her feel comfortable, she acts out and she just wont stop.
A true mama's girl she is, but my heart seems reluctant to love her fully, and this makes me sad. I love Allie, but my heart does not ache or yearn for her like I believe a mothers heart should.
Johnathan knows the stories of my childhood involving my mother and how this is partly the cause of this. I used to let him hold me when I woke from nightmares, much like the one from last night, but I don't now.
My face looks old and tired. The lines around my mouth and under my eyes are visible to the point of embarrassment. Lisa, Jonathan and Mallennie are the only ones who have ever made me feel beautiful. Could I ever completely love him, give myself to him fully? I don't believe I could, but it is not that I don't try. Or any of them.
Sadly enough, pleasure is not something I find very often much less orgasm with sex, but Johnathan can do this for me at times. In this, I know my love for him, and because I cannot show him more than these small actions, he doesn't know. He acts as though he has no understanding of me, but small acts are what show him how I truly feel. Some nights letting him hold me is all I can bare. I hurt to the point of nausea at everything that is unfolding around me, even if I do not know what it all is.
I give into my heartache from his request, hating that I make him feel that way, but my heart just needs to be alone. He used to be this way as well, but this has changed overtime. He tries for my attention, thinking it is going to fix me. I wish he could understand that it wont. I was broken from my mother long ago.
Cora was an evil woman before she died by my hand. You see, Johnathan helped me with her remains, which this act is what made me who I am this day. I murdered my mother, who by all means deserved it, but it changed me beyond words. It did change him too and I wish he never had to get involved.
I am brought to tears to think about what he lost when he did this for me, out of love. "Johnathan," I whisper as I lay down next to him in bed.
"Regina, are you going to stay in bed tonight?" He asks as he lifts his head slightly off of the pillow.
"Yes dear, I need you to hold me." I force a smile, even though I have just lied to my husband, it makes him happy, so I suffer the unbearable touch to help him sleep at this hour. He works so much that I feel responsible for mistakes in surgeries. His sleep is nearly gone out of his life, and I am to blame. I stare at his hand on my stomach until I fall asleep begging to be free and walking on the beach.